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Ang Hamog Sa Mahimbing Na Umaga	By : xtaleenmethane Category: > Kaoru/Toshiya Views: 844 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Dir en grey. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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- 4
It was only two thirty in the afternoon but Papa’s Pachinko Place was already filled with people. The whole store was hazy with cigarette smoke and the sound of tiny, metal balls hitting each other was enough to drive the owner mad. Hakuei pressed his fingers on both sides of his head; he had trouble finding sleep last night so, when the clock finally struck two o’clock in the morning, he allowed Johnny Walker to lull him to sleep—a friend who was more happy to supply him with a head-splitting migraine upon waking up. He had to literally drag himself out of bed and crawl into the bathroom that morning because any attempts to stand up would always end with him crashing back down. He asked one of his subordinates to buy him medicine but, ever since sending the guy off at nine thirty in the morning, Hakuei has seen neither hide nor hair of the man up until now. He internally seethed as he swore to give that person a good beating when he gets back. As the irritating sound continued bouncing off the concrete walls of the short hallway and through his office’s wooden door, Hakuei had half-a-mind to take one of the shotguns displayed on the wall of his office and shoot and every goddamned Pachinko-addict outside. For the first time since opening the store, he realized the ludicrousness of using Pachinko as a sideline when he’s not running errands for the Kanto group.
“A good sideline my ass… they can have this freakin’ store and shove it,” said Hakuei icily, remembering the time when he took the advice of his seniors. He basically had no choice but to follow their ‘suggestion’ since everything else seems to have been taken at that time. Now he’s mentally slapping himself for adhering to their stupid proposition.
Hakuei suddenly gave up the idea of massaging the pain away and made a grab for his cellphone instead. He dialed a number and placed the phone to his ear. After several rings, the other end answered, “What is it?”
“I don’t think I can do it right now,” said Hakuei as another wave of pain pounded against his skull—threatening to crack and break it. Hakuei had to cradle his head with his free hand to keep himself from bashing it on the solid, mahogany table.
“What do you mean you can’t?” the deep, baritone voice half-growled into his ear. From the sound of it, Hakuei was pretty sure that Niikura Kaoru would’ve clobbered him with a baseball bat for even daring to suggest such a thing.
“I feel like my head’s being crushed by a jackhammer… I could barely open my eyes, you thoughtless asshole…,” answered Hakuei irritably.
“Do I sound like I care? If Sugizo manages to find the target from the time we were there yesterday, I’ll personally make sure that you get a perpetual migraine,” said Kaoru, anger evident in his voice. “Have you thoroughly read all the information I sent you last night?”
“Yeah,” Hakuei said half-heartedly. He could remember receiving the text message at around midnight, at that time however, Hakuei couldn’t even give a flying fuck if it was from Buddha himself, telling him the best way to achieve nirvana. Tired eyes and intense, blue backlights do not mix very well at an ungodly hour.
“You approximately have forty five to fifty minutes to execute the plan. He walks from his apartment to the café and would stop by a Takoyaki stand to have a light me—,” said Kaoru, trying to run through all the important things he has sent.
“Niikura!” shouted Hakuei, extremely irritated. “What the fuck are you doing? You sound like a freakin’ instructional video. I told you, I have all the details in the text message!”
“You have proven your incompetence so many times before. I have every goddamn right to pound it into your neuron-less head,” Kaoru said.
“The happiest event in my life would probably be the time when all this shit is over,” retorted Hakuei, as he pressed his left hand into the side of his head—nails digging into his skin.
“Ditto,” was the reply from the other man.
“How does Yoshiki want this boy anyway. As cold and hard as ice, or, as warm and slippery as a Thai prostitute?” Hakuei asked, trying to calm himself down. He knew that arguing with Kaoru would just aggravate his headache.
“I don’t recall him saying anything about leaving the boy alive, Hakuei,” replied Kaoru.
Hakuei sneered. “I don’t see why we’re hurrying to dispo—”
“He wants Hara Toshimasa dead, ASAP,” interrupted Kaoru. “And right now, you don’t have a fucking excuse not to do it.”
“If you’re in such a hurry, why don’t you do it?” asked Hakuei, testing the waters for the last time.
“Be back in your office by nine o’clock tonight. I’ll pick you up by then. And don’t forget to dispose of the body,” said Kaoru, not giving Hakuei another chance to reply.
He heard a beep then the line went dead. “And a good fucking bye to you too, you piece of shit,” said Hakuei as he dropped the cellphone onto the table.
Hakuei was stuck with the mission no matter how he looks at it. He cannot rely on any of his subordinates to do this job—if Kaoru thinks he’s incompetent, wait till he gets a load of the mindless morons that were working for Hakuei. He sighed heavily knowing that Kaoru has already done his part and now it’s his responsibility to finish the task.
“It’s a dirty job but somebody’s got to do it,” Hakuei said to no one in particular. All of a sudden, his office door opened and banged loudly as it hit the wall. Hakuei abruptly looked up and was greeted by a walking, talking Skittles mascot.
“Hey boss! I’ve got you Advil here!” said Miyavi, holding up the brown paper bag. The young man was sporting a brightly colored hair do and a purple ensemble that reminded Hakuei of Barney. “Sorry it took me a while to ge—”
Miyavi was cut short when flying into the air and crashing into the wall outside—missing him by mere centimeters. He looked at the broken pieces of glass then back to the person inside.
“It took you a fucking while?! A fucking while? It took you nearly half the fucking day to buy me my medicine, you dumbass!” shouted Hakuei, his hand grabbing the nearest object he can throw. “Give me a good fucking reason not to shoot you, Miyavi!”
“Boss—I was… was… I was delayed. I had to do some errands and it took me, umm… a bit umm… much longer than I expe—wait, Boss, dodododon’t thro—,’ said Miyavi, both his hand in front of him, stuttering as Hakuei grabbed a certain object and threw it at him.
“Shut up! Just give me the goddamned pills, Miyavi!” shouted Hakuei, half-standing as he reached for his salvation. He snatched the paperbag from Miyavi’s hand, opened it, and took the bottle of medicine out. He twisted the cap open, letting it fall carelessly onto the table as he took a couple of pills. He swallowed the pills, not liking the way it crawled down his throat. He breathed heavily, his hands raking through his hair. “Get me some water…,” he said to Miyavi. The other man quickly made his way to a little refrigerator at the corner of Hakuei’s office and took out a small bottle of water. Miyavi opened the bottle it placed it in front of Hakuei.
“Th-there you g-go boss,” Miyavi said, still a bit shaky.
Hakuei’s hand felt for the bottle, not even bothering to look up. Upon grasping it, he made a dismal attempt to drink—managing only a few gulps to help flush down the seemingly wedged tablets in his throat. He finally laid back, letting padded chair cushion his ailing head. With his eyes still closed, he said, “Miyavi, you’re going with me… I need a freakin’ back-up in my condition. Take my cellphone and call the garage. Tell them to bring one of the black sedans here, ASAP.”
“Umm, boss, I can’t,” answered Miyavi.
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“The cellphone… umm… it’s umm…”
“It’s what, Miyavi, it’s what?!” shouted Hakuei.
“Well, umm… see for yourself…”
Hakuei slowly opened his eyes, not really liking what he’s going to see. He saw Miyavi pointing out into the hallway, towards scattered pieces of what used to be his cellphone. “Fuck,” was all Hakuei can say.
“I know the phone number to the garage boss, I’ll just call them here,” said Miyavi, making a move towards the telephone on Hakuei’s desk.
Hakuei lacked the energy to say anything else towards the younger man. The idiocy of Miyavi surpasses that of anyone he has known before and feared he has yet to see the worst of it. There is a very good reason why he kept the man by his side. He knew that whatever Miyavi lacked in common sense, he made up for with his extreme determination to please Hakuei and a his umatched ability with the gun. Hakuei has seen how much havoc Miyavi can bring about with his sharp shooting skills—he was and asset to say the least, no matter which way Hakuei looks at it. The young man has proven his worth on several occasions and one of them was when Hakuei came face to face with Sato Eiji. The Kokusui-kai outnumbered them, two to one, but Miyavi’s two-handed firing rage found most of them sporting holes in their bodies very much like models wearing Donatella Versace’s haute couture.
His musing was broken when Miyavi said, “Hey boss, the driver’s on his way. He said he’ll be here in fifteen… twenty minutes.”
“Good,” Hakuei replied. “You get yourself ready and wait for me outside. I’ll just let this goddamn headache subside.”
“Sure boss,” said Miyavi. He walked out the room, pulling the door with him. He stopped midway though, turned and asked, “Umm… where exactly are we going?” Hakuei answered by throwing his cardholder at Miyavi, crashing noisily into the door. He then heard a click and the younger man’s muffled apologies on the other side of the wooden barrier.
Hakuei sighed for the nth time that afternoon and sank into his chair. He somehow knew that the day is only going to get worse. For now, however, he ordered himself to relax because he needed the energy to finish the mission. An assassination took more than aiming the gun and pulling the trigger. The timing needed to be perfect and the execution, flawless. If they were going to cut off the Kokusui-kai lifeline, he needed to kill Hara Toshimasa with the grace of a ballerina.
“So why the hell are you dragging Miyavi along, you douche bag?” he asked himself. He reached for the water bottle again and drinking almost half of the remaining liquid. He was still a mess and now that Kaoru’s neatly, laid-out plan died along with the rest of his cellphone, he was desperately grabbing for bits of important details that somehow managed to stick in his mind when he browsed through the message.
Asking Kaoru would be near to impossible. Number one, Hakuei had no idea where the other man is. Number two, Kaoru changed phone numbers faster than Miyavi can pull the trigger. And number three, Hakuei was sure that Kaoru would spend a good hour biting off his head and gnawing on it until brain matter and tissue are all that’s left. If any or all of the aforementioned events happened, he knows for sure that he’s at the losing end.
Hakuei crushed the water bottle in his hand and threw it aside. His headache has finally subsided but he has a gut feeling that it just might hit again, bitching twice as much as before. He opened one of the side drawers and took out his gun—he then stood up and placed it inside his chest holster. He picked up his coat, which he haphazardly placed on the sidetable earlier, and wore it. He only wished that his performance would be just slick as his designer ensemble. He quickly made a grab for the medicine bottle and its cap, screwing it close, and placing it inside his pocket. There always room for good measure.
--------------------------------------------------
As the saying goes, when it rains, it pours.
And the phrase was nowhere near as apt as it was now. Five minutes into the trip, the sky began to darken considerably and the next thing Hakuei knew, rain drops were pelting the roof of the black Mercedes Benz. The rain blanketed the city and there was no way to escape it. Pedestrians were running to and fro, trying to find a place to wait out the rain while cursing the unpredictable weather. The streets were lined with anonymous canopies of different sorts and colors, isolating the lucky ones who managed to bring an umbrella that day from the people who have flimsy substitutes or none at all.
It definitely made Hakuei’s job harder. Traffic was starting to build up in this part of town and the weather was getting worse by the minute. He was at risk of missing the target at the station and losing him in the sea of scurrying people. He had no idea what route Hara Toshimasa was taking on his way to work and, in this weather, even if he knew, there was a chance that the young man might change his course.
Hakuei was not a religious person but he probably would’ve recited all the known Buddhist mantras and scriptures if it meant the mission was going to end in his favor. He was getting fidgety in the passenger’s seat and was on the verge of stepping on Miyavi’s foot that was poised in front of the gas pedal. He leaned towards the windshield, trying to discern the familiar outline of the train station in the dark and hazy skyline. Upon spotting the building, Hakuei decided to walk. He reached underneath his seat and pulled out a small, collapsible umbrella—the only one in the car. He opened his door and unfastened the umbrella before going out. Before closing the door, he looked back into the car and instructed Miyavi to park the sedan and then look form him to the main entrance of the train station. He closed the door of the car and started walking on the waterlogged street and through the maze of cars. He needed to get to the station fast so he avoided the sidewalks impossibly clogged with human traffic and instead navigated the barely occupied spaces in between the slow-moving vehicles.
The train station wasn’t that far from where the car was stuck. Hakuei checked his watch and was relieved when he saw that it was only a quarter before four o’clock. It gave him enough time to reach the entrance before the next scheduled train arrives at the station. He could hear his heart, beating fast and loud, and his breathing was getting thick and labored—and his temper was rising just as fast. He could feel water sloshing around his expensive, leather shoes and, his wet slacks were sticking to his legs and were starting to itch. At this moment, Hakuei felt like he was in the watery depths of hell itself.
“I hope you’re goddamn happy, Niikura,” Hakuei said to himself, seething at the thought of the other man, who was probably warm and cozy somewhere within the same city.
He finally reached the entrance of the station and heard the faint announcement of the train’s arrival. He just made it and, without missing a beat, he immediately positioned himself near the gates that said ‘EXIT’. He stood beside a group of phone booths that somehow shielded him from the onslaught of the wind and rain, waiting for a familiar face to appear. After ten minutes or so, Hakuei was still standing in the rain, trying hard to distinguish one person from another. So far he had no luck in spotting the heir.
“Hey boss…,” somebody whispered from behind Hakuei.
It was enough, however, to startle Hakuei that he ended up slamming into the phone booth beside him. The umbrella slipped from his grip and so he scrambled to catch it before the wind blows it out of his reach. After composing himself, well as much as the situation would allow him, he turned around to find a very wet Miyavi, trying desperately to hold his laughter in.
“What the fuck are you smiling about? You think that was funny? Huh? You think that was funny?” asked Hakuei, emphasizing his words by prodding his index finger on Miyavi’s forehead—hard enough to make the younger man stumble backwards. Miyavi was not, in the least, affected as he was still laughing when he straightened up.
“Just shut up.”
“Hehehe… Yes bos-mmphh… hehehe… I’m sorry, I’m ju-pfff!!!”
“Miyavi, I have a gun and I could easily put a bullet through your head if you don’t stop laughing.”
The younger man breathed in deeply, trying to keep the laughter inside of him. He was not, in the slightest, perturbed by the empty threat coming from his senior. However, he was well aware of the importance of the mission. Hakuei briefed him when they were on their way here, although he missed out on most of the details, he knew that they were here to kill someone. He finally subdued his laughter and cleared his throat.
“How does the target look like anyway, boss?”
“Ah shit… the picture was in my cellphone…,” said Hakuei, the irritation of the regrettable act rising from his chest.
“Well, do you atleast know how he looks like,boss? Can you describe him?”
“What the hell do you think I’m doing now?” barked out Hakuei. He was digging into his memory bank, trying to etch out the face of Hara Toshimasa. He was able to get a good look of the target yesterday, and his mind automatically made photocopy of this mental image. The image somehow superimposed itself on Miyavi’s face when Hakuei looked back at the younger man. “Well I’ll be damned. He sort of looks like you.”
Miyavi’s face was unreadable for a fleeting moment. Hakuei saw as Miyavi looked past him, pointed, and said, “Then, that must be him boss.”
He turned around and there he was, Hara Toshimasa standing a head taller than most of the people around them. Come to think of it, all three of them were. On any given day, they would’ve attracted attention easily but today is not one of them. Consequently, it was just as easy to lose their quarry if they didn’t follow him immediately. Hara Toshimasa opened his black umbrella and started walking away from them.
This was there queue to start moving.
“Shit, he’s on the move. Miyavi, follow fifteen paces behind me and keep your eye on the target. We might lose him… he’s got the same goddamn umbrella as half of the people on the street.”
“Not really, boss. Look,” said Miyavi, as he pointed towards Hara Toshimasa. As the umbrella twisted and turned in his hand, they saw that one particular side had a big, yellow smiley painted on it. It was very visible, as if hovering over a deep, black see. “We’ll just have to follow the bouncing ball.”
Hakuei then fixed his eyes on the yellow smiley. No more fun an games. Hakuei meant business, his demeanor changed drastically as he hurried to catch up to Hara Toshimasa. Sudden turns and shortcuts did not hinder Hakuei, always making sure he was only a few yards away from the target. The red light signaled the human traffic to stop as its vehicular counterpart flowed across its path. Hakuei was a couple of feet away from Toshimasa—an old lady, and a couple of business men were all the separates him from possible death. Hakuei and Miyavi came armed and ready; they fixed silencers on their guns while they were in the car and all they had to do was to pull it out and shoot. Hakuei turned slightly to check on Miyavi but the younger man was nowhere to be found.
“Fuck it, Miyavi. I told you to stay close,” Hakuei said to himself. Internally seething from the Miyavi’s insubordination. Hakuei had no time to linger on that matter though. As soon as the light turned green, the pedestrians started moving again. Hakuei looked up from underneath his umbrella. The buildings and establishments were starting to grow familiar. They were nearing the café.
The crowd started thinning out as Toshimasa took a different route. He cut across the street instead of round the whole block. Hakuei followed him as he turned into a long alley, filled with bins, trash cans, and discarded cardboard boxes. The café was only a few stores down, to the left. He needed to do this now. He was closing the distance between them fast, and much to Hakuei’s surprise, the other man did not notice anything. Hakuei was not a man to question his luck, especially today when that particular factor was greatly lacking.
Up ahead though, he noticed a black SUV parked on the opposite side of the street. There was something ominous with the way it looked and Hakuei did not like it one bit. He reached inside his coat and took out his gun. He was only a couple of feet away when he noticed the doors of the black SUV opening. He did not need a second glance to know who were waiting at the other end. Hakuei let go of the umbrella and pointed his gun to Toshimasa’s head.
All of a sudden, something or someone crashed into him from behind. His gun slipped from his hand and slid several feet away from him.
“Shitshitshitshitshit,” Hakuei said. He crashed into a group of trashcans, creating enough noise to wake up all of Tokyo. He was did not notice that a similar SUV was parked on the street they just came from. He looked up and all he saw was two hundred pounds of flesh and bone, ramming into him the second time around. Hakuei felt as if his brain just went through his skull, he could barely grasp what was happening. He was dragged up to his feet by the burly, Kokusui goon—he held Hakuei by his collar and for a minute, he thought his head was going to end up as a human speedball. Right before the big thug could land a devastating punch, Hakuei kicked him hard in the groin. He doubled over in pain, howling as he went down.
Hakuei took the chance and punched the man on the side of head. He looked up and he saw two more goons, just as big and as willing to unleash pain, were running towards him. Their guns already out. He looked around for his gun and upon finding it, scrambled for it like his life depended on it—because right at the moment, it did. The two goons started shooting at him, the bullets went whizzing by, missing him by mere inches. He got hold his gun and started shooting blindly behind him. He immediately ducked behind a big trash bin and shot at his pursuers. He was sandwiched in between two metal bins—but from where he was sitting he could clearly see Hara Toshimasa dashing the other way; disappearing from his line of sight completely. He fired a couple more at the goons behind him and dared to have a better look at what’s waiting on the other side.
He saw that Toshimasa was still running fast but visibly slowed down, stumbling in his own feet as the two, black-suited men started walking towards him. He slipped on the wet pavement and he tried to scramble on to his feet. Lying low as he half ran and half crouched towards the nearest barrier—discarding his bag at almost the same place where he threw his umbrella, in his haste to get away from people behind him. Bullets passed above him, ricocheting off the thicker bins and passing through the weaker trashcans. Hara Toshimasa hid behind a group of trashcans, filled to the rim with rotting garbage.
The target was now a bin away from Hakuei. He could hear the two groups at each end radioing each other. He caught the order of the supposed leader over the radio behind him, commanding the three goons to stop shooting. The Kokusui-kai was trying to avoid hurting, or worse, killing Hara Toshimasa in the crossfire.
Hakuei was in a real rut. It was raining harder, he was running out of bullets, and he was sandwiched in between two groups of trigger-happy, Yamaguchi allies. To top it all off, the rotten stench was starting to overwhelm him—it was acrid and was stinging the inner tissues of his nose. More out of irritation than desperation, he shot the last few bullets until his gun clicked empty. It was returned, of course, but less enthusiastically. He released the empty magazine and replaced it with a full clip. How he wished he did not throw his cellphone. He could’ve used the back up. On second thought, with his situation, the mere thought of being able to call for help was enough—regardless of how pathetic it sounded.
One of the three men behind him shouted, “Give up now, Hakuei! You don’t have a flying rat’s chance in getting yourself out of this. Sato-sama would like to send his regards, by the way. He’d like you to sat hello to his son!”
Hakuei’s body was battered and bruised but not his ego. He shouted back, voice hoarse from all his earlier exertions, “Fuck all you Yamaguchi dogs! Do you think I’ll give up that easily? If I’m going down, I’ll take Sato’s bastard son with me!” And with that, he raised his gun first and started firing continually—he scrambled to his feet, dashing towards the next opening where Hara Toshimasa was hiding.
In his blind fury, Hakuei was able to kill two of the men behind him, suffering only a big gash on his upper, left arm as bullet grazed him. He slipped and crashed right into the huddled form of Toshimasa; the latter letting out a cry of pain. Hakuei’s body pinned him against the wall, the exposed skin suffering several gashes and cuts from the abrasive surface. Bullets were now raining overhead from both sides, the remaining men infuriated with the fall of their two comrades.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuuuuuuuck!” said Hakuei, teeth grinding against each other as shrank away from the river of bullets overhead. After a few more seconds, the shooting stopped, and Hakuei heard the leader shout something at him.
“Hakuei! Give us the boy and you will get out of here alive!”
“Over my dead fucking body!” he shouted back and did not hesitate to shower the two men on the other end with bullets. As expected, this act was generously requited. Hakuei shrank back down into the safety of the trashcans. Immersing himself again in the sickening smell. His proximity to Toshimasa made him well aware of the existence of the other—tremors and soft cries were rising from him. Hakuei exhaled and hauled up the hunched body.
“And you, you little bastard… this is where your road ends,” Hakuei said icily into Toshimasa’s ear. He made the Toshimasa sit up—forcing the younger man to face him as he gripped him the chin. He poised the barrel of the gun against Toshimasa’s head while pulling the hammer back in the process.
Hakuei’s eyes looked into the deep, black orbs that were bleeding freely with the salty tears that ran down Toshimasa’s bruised cheeks—ultimately mixing with the acidic, Tokyo rain. Hakuei was breathing hard, tired and aching from the earlier endeavors. He can’t help but dig his fingers into the soft flesh of Hara’s face so as to prevent it from slipping away. The younger man was exuding an aura that Hakuei was greatly magnetized to. He did not know how or why but when their eyes locked together, Hakuei found it physically and mentally impossible to break away.
He was looking into the eyes of a fallen angel.
At that moment, time seemed to have slowed down drastically. The air around them was so thick; the ambient noise somehow muffled by an invisible bubble around them. He was completely mesmerized by the fear-stricken eyes and the beautiful outline of Toshimasa’s face.
The moment was cut short when a piercing shout broke the pseudo-barrier.
“HAKUEI!!!!!”
It was unmistakably Miyavi’s voice, rising even above the thunderous rain. The shout was then followed by a series of consecutive shots—each miniature explosion ringing out in the alley. Hakuei’s body instinctively cowered down, unconsciously shielding the terrified Toshimasa from the bullets that were flying and bouncing off the walls and bins.
After what seemed like eternity, the surroundings was suddenly free from gunshots and the only noise that Hakuei can here was the rain and the sobs from the person beneath him.
A tap on the shoulder brought Hakuei back to reality. He slowly looked up, only to find Miyavi smiling condescendingly down at him. “Time to stand up, boss. I finished them all for you.”
Taking his queue from Miyavi, he stood up with the help of the younger man. “Thanks,” Hakuei croaked, voice hoarse and throat sore from all the shouting that took place.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” asked Miyavi as he pointed his gun towards the crouched form of Hara Toshimasa.
Hakuei’s quick reflex deflected Miyavi’s aim, the bullet shooting harmlessly into the trashcans beside Toshimasa.
“What the fu—hey boss, what gives?” asked Miyavi, confusion evident in his face.
“Don’t. We’ll take him with us.”
“But boss, I thought you said Niikura and Yoshki-sama wants him dead.”
“I said preferably dead,” Hakuei lied through his teeth. It was a lame attempt but it was all that he can think off.
“But—,”
“I said we’ll tale him with us, goddamnit!!! What part of that don’t you understand?!?!”
“But boss, he’s the son of Sat—n,”
“Don’t you think I fucking know that?!”
Profanity and harsh words drifted into Toshimasa’s ears. Hearing the two argue whether he should be kept alive or not, made Hara Toshimasa open his eyes for the first time since cowering down in fear behind the garbage cans. He knew he had to get away. No matter how pathetic his attempt is, he must atleast try. He can’t just die like this. With all the strength that he can muster, he pushed himself off the ground and started running for his life.
Hakuei had his back to Toshimasa that is why he wasn’t fully aware of what was happening until Miyavi shouted at the fleeing man to stop. Hakuei quickly ran after Toshimasa, shouting and pleading for him to stop. With Hakuei’s mind focused only at the man in front of him, he completely forgot of his armed subordinate.
Miyavi raised his gun, took aim, and pulled the trigger. Those last three shots rang out in the alley, dirtied not only by industrial waste but also by the black blood of the Yakuza. The rain washed away the filth while its cold hands claimed the life of another.
There was nothing glamorous or glitzy in this part of Ginza. Only a sad, sad reminder of the chaos and the gore that lies beneath its surface.

Chapter Notes:
> I hope you read Chapter 1 again. I made some changes that made the whole story more cohesive. I guess.
> Somehow I knew I was going to end up using Miyavi in this story. I really like digging myself into a deeper hole everytime, don’t I?
> Btw, do not ask me if I’m ‘geographically’ correct because I just making everything up as I go. I honestly do not know where Papa’s Pachinko Place or the café is located. As a matter of fact, I am just randomly placing these establishments in a pseudo-map.
> Papa’s Pachinko Place. Don't even ask.
> I’m so confused with Hakuei’s character. Don't know where I'm going to go with him. Yeah… so I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re as confused as I am.
> This chapter is definitely much longer than the previous one. I stayed up all night trying to finish this chapter and now, my back and all my joints are killing me. I nearly died writing the shooting scene. As usual, this is unedited. I hope you enjoyed reading it. And yes, expect me to make major revisions with this chapter as well... I'll probably post the edited version with chapter 3.
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Ang Hamog Sa Mahimbing Na Umaga